


Work Song

by sterlingstars



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bottom Matt, Claire is a superhero as per usual, Dom/sub, Feeding, Foggy is the world's gentlest dom, M/M, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Matt ignores safewords and he gets in trouble, Matt is a bad sub, Praise Kink, Spanking, Sub Matt, and some tender love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5341529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlingstars/pseuds/sterlingstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Done for a prompt on the kinkmeme- Matt is a sub that asks for a little too much, because of that fantastic little guilt complex of his. Once he talks someone into beating him senseless, feeling he deserves it, a very concerned Claire and Foggy decide enough is enough. Foggy, in particular, wants to keep Matt safe, and for that, he'll do whatever it takes- even if that means taking this business into his own very gentle, capable hands.</p><p>Matt just needs a little love, and Foggy is the perfect one to show him that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Song

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy, friends. This one was a lot of work, but I literally could not pass it up. On browsing the kinkmeme, I found [this excellent prompt](http://http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/3230.html?thread=6487966#cmt6487966), and because it's right up my alley, there was no resisting this one. 
> 
> A lot of work and a lot of yelling went into this, so I hope it fits the bill! I tried to rack up all those bonus op was trying to give out, and I think I hit the mark!
> 
> There are some slight warnings in the beginning for bad bdsm etiquette. Matt doesn't use his safeword, and allows a dom to go too far, therefore injuring him. There's no gory details, so no worries if that squicks you out. Not technically non-con, I don't think, because Matt did want the dom to push limits, but if that puts you off, I'll warn you for that, as well. Other than that, safe and trigger free!
> 
> Anyway, enough ranting- enjoy!

_In the low lamp light I was free; Heaven and Hell were words to me - Hozier_

_Snap. Snap. Snap snap snap_.

The leather hits Matt's skin mercilessly, the sting sharp and bright and blinding in its intensity. The sounds he makes are muffled, quited, because Sir said he's not allowed to be loud, but oh, how he wants to scream. Each strike of the crop on his ass and legs is fire, his skin burning and raw. 

He likes riding crops- their blows can be surprisingly brutal, despite their size. If the hand that weilds them knows what it's doing, it ends very nicely for Matt. Comfortably bruised and red, stinging, his body singing with the fire in his skin brought up by each strike of the leather. He likes the concentration of it, the small, sharp bites of it against his skin. It's good, very good. 

Sir finishes his strikes. Matt's been counting dutifully, like the good boy he is, and Sir seems to be pleased. He took twenty strikes so well. Sir hums pleasantly, dragging the leather loop of the crop against Matt's raw skin, making him shudder. He runs it down, down, down, dragging it across Matt's balls, and he bites his lips, not making a sound.

“Such a good little thing,” Sir whispers. “Perhaps I'll reward you. Would you like to come?”

“Yes, Sir,” Matt says in the mildest tone he can muster.

A dark, throaty chuckle. Sir likes to tease, to torture, to push Matt's limits. He knows even this isn't going to be easy, but he wants it, needs it. He's burning, his cock so hard it aches, and he'll do anything for the release. Besides, he's done a lot of damage as Daredevil this week, and, well, if the things he'd done to those criminals is anything to go by, this is a lesser punishment for his sins. 

He'll take it. 

He always does.

+

Anthony doesn't work out. They never do, it seems. Matt's still got his bruises, though, so he's allowing himself a break before looking for another dom. He'd learned in the past that they don't like the marks of his previous doms to still be on him when they begin- they feel threatened, like he's cheating on someone for them. It sets them on edge, makes them possessive and upset. Things usually didn't progress. Or, sometimes they did- and god, was it deliciously brutal.

So, Matt is allowing himself a reprieve, even though he doesn't want it. He can't afford it. He goes a little stir-crazy if he hasn't been handled in too long. It gets under his skin, sets him on edge, makes him feel upset and testy. Emotional. Being dommed, being controlled, punished, keeps him in line, makes him feel good. It makes up for all the bad things he does in the streets, pays for the sins that Daredevil stacks up in tall towers as he runs through Hell's Kitchen and delivers his painful justice. 

Some people would say it isn't good for him, but what do they know? His doms, they never seem to mind. Not for too long, anyway. That's what's important. He doesn't like it when people ask questions, when they try to go to deep and get too involved. 

Matt's had a lot of doms. 

But it's all fine, he tells himself. This is what he's earned, what he deserves. And he _likes_ it. He likes the pain, likes the risk, loves losing control for a little while. He likes it when someone else has to worry about the danger for once, when he can just let go and have someone else do all the work. He likes having someone take care of him, giving him what he needs. Really, it's good for him.

Between doms, he has his fun. He's got to get his fix somewhere- and that somewhere is usually in seedy clubs where they don't ask for much besides your obedience. That, he can give. 

He begs so well that they usually give him what he wants. He's mastered this, the art of persuasion. Some of them want to be so gentle, don't want to hit him as hard as he asks, don't want to leave as many marks. He's good at convincing them otherwise, assuring them that it's fine, that he can take it, that he deserves it. 

It's bliss, to be in the hands of someone who gives him what he wants. Bruises and welts and red, red marks across his skin. Hands tied up, sometimes gagged, legs spread... he wants it all, loves it all, takes it so well. His doms all say the same thing- he's so obedient, so good at taking what he asks for. A lot of them are surprised, initially, when they see this from him. Perhaps he just doesn't look like he can take it, but if they only knew who they were dealing with. 

Almost all of them never give enough, though- not the way he wants. They're always so gentle, so soft. Well, softer than Matt wants, than what he needs. It's barely enough, but it works, most days, to satisfy the itch that settles under his skin when he goes too long without a scene. 

But God, it's _not enough_.

So he looks. He wants what he wants- what he needs- and he's going to find it.

+

He finds it, alright. He finds it in the back of a seedy club, with a dom who has fire in his touch and clearly knows what Matt wants.

“Dirty,” Sir spits. His hands are in Matt's hair, yanking at the roots so hard his eyes are watering, and yes. “You are a dirty slut. But don't worry,” he growls. “I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget. Such a pretty, little thing- oh what fun we're going to have.”

Matt smiles a smile that's got too many edges, and offers himself up for punishment.

+

God, everything _hurts_. Everything hurts, and he's aching almost as badly as he did after his fight with Nobu. The dom had asked Matt, before he left, if he was okay- if he needed anything, if it hurt too much; even offered to take him home. For such a fiery thing, he was very gentle afterwards- but that's not what Matt wanted, so he politely told him he was fine and made his way home in a stupor, knees weak and body thrumming with a deep-seated ache that was hot and so, so good.

Now he's awake, and that ache that was so sweet the night before is now hot in a bad way, and he feels like the undead. 

He has to call Claire.

She's over at his apartment in record time, and she's pissed. She thinks it's a Daredevil thing that he left until the morning. He knows she's going to like the real answer even less.

He's not wrong.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Matt, why did you do this?”

Her hands are so, so gentle on his sore skin, but her voice is burning with rage. Her fingers shake, and her heart is pounding. Matt frowns deeply. 

“It's fine,” he grunts. “I asked for this.”

Claire's hands stop in their tracks, and she steps away, shaking her head. Matt can _smell_ the anger on her, and he winces. Perhaps this was a mistake, he thinks. She doesn't need to see this- why did he think calling her would be a good idea? God, he can't think straight. As if she didn't have enough reasons to be upset with him on a near constant basis. 

“You- you asked for this? You let someone beat you raw? What the fuck is wrong with you, Matt?”

“It's what I want,” he says. “I just- wasn't prepared enough, I guess.”

She seethes, and it's quiet but deadly. Matt swallows. 

“Did you use a safeword?” Her voice is quiet, but still shaky with her anger. 

“There was one, but I- I didn't use it.”

“Did you _need_ to use it, Matt?”

Yes. The honest answer is yes. When there was blood, when he was numb, he needed to use it, but he didn't, because he didn't want to, didn't want to look weak in front of Sir, who was being so perfect, doing all the things Matt said he wanted. He didn't want to waste the opportunity, so he kept going. 

It's what he needed.

“No,” he pushes out.

“I'm calling bullshit. You got some kind of deathwish? As if you don't get your ass kicked in the streets enough, you go and let someone do this to you?”

She pauses and sighs, deeply. Matt knows she's tired- can smell the hospital and coffee on her. She worked a long shift, has been picking up extra hours. She's running on coffee and too little sleep, and he feels so terrible that if he weren't already lying down, he's sure he would have fallen to his knees.

“Matt,” she says, and her voice is so, so soft. “You... you can't do this to yourself. You can't. It's not right, it's not healthy. Do you know how badly you could get hurt? The kinds of things that could happen to you if this kind of thing goes wrong? It's one thing to do the Daredevil thing, but this is a whole other level of reckless.” She sighs again. “You're not a stupid man, Matt. I trust you know what you're getting into. But... you can't do this again.”

“I need it,” he breathes. “It helps, honestly. It's good for me, Claire, it keeps me in balance.”

She shakes her head again. “Not like this, it doesn't. If done the right way, I could see that. But this? This is straight up abuse. That doesn't help shit, Matt.”

Claire lectures him for a solid hour and a half. She stays with him to watch over him, make sure she hasn't missed anything, and then she heads out the door to go to bed. He's still in his own bed, lying naked on his stomach, and he doesn't want to move. Between the pain and the guilt, he's pinned. 

He tentatively falls asleep and blocks it out for a while.

+

Claire tells Foggy. Of course she tells Foggy, because now that he knows about Daredevil he and Claire are the best of friends. Matt now gets a double lecture when he gets banged up too bad, and faces the wrath of not one but two pissed off friends on a pretty regular basis.

But this is... much worse than being too reckless in a fight as Daredevil.

Matt wakes up from his terrible nap because Foggy is letting himself into the apartment, and Matt curses himself for ever giving the man a key. (Not really- but he's allowed to sulk a little.)

Matt winces, because Foggy's horrified gasp is terrible to listen to. It's too raw, and Matt feels a little sick at the sound. God, is he feeling the guilt this morning. He won't even have to go to church this week, for all this. Besides, he's got the feeling that he's going to get a lecture that would rival any Bible verse Father Lantom could sternly throw at him, even in his best “You're probably definitely going to Hell, Matthew” voice. 

“Matt,” Foggy says in a small, trembling voice, and this is _so_ much worse than being lectured by a priest. “Matt, you...” He stutters a moment, pushing out a rough sigh. “God, you look awful. I mean, Claire s-said it was bad, but...”

Oh no. Oh, no- Foggy is on the verge of tears. Fuck, no this is not happening, this _cannot_ happen; Matt promised himself after the night of the reveal that he would never make Foggy cry again, this is so bad. 

He reaches out, frowning deeply.

“Foggy...” He doesn't really know what to say, so he trails off, kicking himself.

Foggy takes some deep breaths, rakes his hands through his hair. Paces Matt's bedroom for a solid five minutes. And then he stops, obviously still trying very hard to control his emotions.

“You don't need to do this,” he says finally, his voice quiet. “Matt, whatever this is- you don't need to do it. This is... this is so bad, Matty.”

Fuck. He said Matty. He called him Matty, and this is bad. Matt feels his mouth trembling, and he is not going to cry, God help him he is not going to cry.

“I... I know,” he manages to stutter out. “I'm sorry, Foggy. I don't... I d-don't want to upset you. Please don't cry.”

Foggy walks over, then, to the bed, and kneels on the floor so that their faces are level. He takes Matt's face in his hands, so gentle. His hands are warm and soft, and Matt leans into the touch a little. He looks at Foggy, is glad for once that he can't actually see his expression. 

Foggy strokes Matt's cheekbones with his thumbs. And then he kisses his forehead, and it's so tender that Matt nearly bursts into tears.

“Please don't do this again, Matty,” he says softly. “Please. I don't wanna see this again. Just. Just one thing for me here, buddy. I don't want this for you.”

He takes a deep breath, shuddering a little. Foggy sounds so distraught, and his body is giving off all the signs. Matt hates this. He hates it more than anything else, and he promised he wouldn't make Foggy feel this way, not since the reveal. That night was enough distress, enough heartache. 

He takes a deep, deep breath.

“Okay,” he says softly. “O-okay. I'll stop.”

“Do you mean that?”

He hates that Foggy has to make sure- but he knows that trust is still a little sketchy. So, even though it hurts, he goes with it. 

“I mean it,” he says. “I promise, Foggy.”

“Good,” he says, and Matt can tell he's relieved. Some of the tension bleeds out of him, and he sighs. “I'm gonna stay here for a while, if that's okay. I just... I don't want to leave you. Like I did last time.”

Matt winces. That one hurts. He fights tears again, and shakes his head minutely.

“Don't worry about it,” he says. “What- what matters is that you're here now. I... I appreciate that. A lot.”

“It's kind of my job to look after you,” Foggy says. “You do a pretty terrible job of doing it yourself.”

Matt laughs, and it's weak, but it seems to soothe Foggy a little. He closes his eyes, and Foggy resumes stroking his cheekbones. He hums softly, and it warms up Matt's insides. 

He knows keeping his promise is going to be hard. The itch is so hard to ignore, once it starts up. He knows it's going to be difficult, but he's willing to try- more than willing- because it's Foggy. Because he's already hurt Foggy so much, and he doesn't want to risk doing anymore damage. 

He'll do what he must.

+

The itch takes its time in coming back. For the first couple of weeks after the bad scene, Matt doesn't want it. He spends the first few days especially exhausted and upset, and in his apartment. Foggy rattles off to Karen that he has the flu, so he goes into the office during the day and comes back to Matt's at night to watch over him and make sure he's not straining himself.

The Daredevil suit is in its place, and it stays there. During the second week, every time he so much as glances at its hiding spot, Foggy fixes him with a glare so powerful that Matt can feel it. One doesn't need to have eyesight to know when they're being glared daggers at- especially by one Foggy Nelson, who is surprisingly very good at pulling angry faces. 

So far, he's been very good at not even thinking about it too much. It helps, not to think of it- like deciding to stop picking at a scab. Some of the literal scabs on his body are good incentive, as well.

Foggy is kind to him, and is encouraging. He gives Matt warm smiles, gentle reassurances, and it makes some of this much more bearable. He's glad, so glad, that he has Foggy in his life. It helps him stay focused. Foggy's good about keeping him distracted, with work and other things, so that he doesn't really have as much free time to want another scene. He's good like that, and Matt is constantly thankful. 

He's curious, naturally. He and Claire both had their questions for Matt, in the aftermath, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to answer them, so he didn't. This was one secret he'd intended to keep from them, but since it was in the open... well, there wasn't much else to be done.

“Matty, you don't have to do this kind of thing,” Foggy says one evening on his couch.

They're in Foggy's apartment. It's Saturday night, cool and rainy, and they're in comfortable clothes, remnants of their dinner and finished beers on the table. There's some really dramatic reality show on tv, because he and Foggy both get massive entertainment out of Foggy describing the proceedings to Matt. 

He knows, of course, exactly what Foggy's talking about. A commercial for some sort of Macy's sale plays pleasantly in the background, and Matt takes a deep breath.

“It helps,” he says quietly.

“What does? Getting hurt? Cause no offence, but I think you get enough of that on the streets.”

He shakes his head. “That's a small part of it, but that's not- not the main reason. I... I like it when someone else is in control.” He pauses for a moment, licks his lips. Wishes he hadn't put his beer bottle on the coffee table so he could pick at the label and keep his hands busy. “That's what helps. Someone- someone else being in charge for once. Someone else handling me, making the decisions. It uh... it helps me relax.”

“So why the pain, then? And I'm not talking about, like, proper spankings. What you got the other week was a beating. And you said you _asked_ for it. Why?”

Matt takes another deep breath. The million dollar question. He's been avoiding this one.

“Because I...” He can't make the words come out.

But of course Foggy knows. He's good like that.

“Don't tell me you think you deserve it,” he says. “Matt... Jesus.” The sound of Foggy's hair brushing his shoulders as he shakes his head. “Typical Murdock. You asked this guy to kick your ass because you thought you deserved it. Did you ever think that maybe.... you don't need to do it that way? Because if it's control you want, there are ways to do it without hurting you. You know that, right? You don't have to get hurt- you don't have to make someone hurt you in order to take care of you. In fact, that's the opposite of what you're going for, buddy.”

Matt, who already has his feet tucked underneath himself, manages to curl up a little tighter and make himself even smaller on Foggy's couch. He frowns, resolutely not turning his face in Foggy's direction. He knows he's upset, that he's confused. That he cares. He always cares.

“I could take care of you, Matty.”

The words are soft, and achingly gentle. Foggy's heart is steady, resolute, as he says this. He's serious. Matt raises his eyebrows, looks at Foggy. Foggy shifts, leans in toward him, and puts a warm, gentle hand on Matt's arm.

“You don't need someone to hurt you,” he says. “That's literally the last thing you need. You know what you do need? Someone who's gonna give you what you need, and be good about it. I... I could do that for you, Matty. I... want to.”

Matt's breath catches in his throat. He loosens up a little bit, uncurling.

“You... you don't have to do that, Foggy. I couldn't ask that of you. That's- that's too much to ask of you.”

“Not if I wanna do it,” he says simply. 

He's in Matt's space, then, and his hands are on his face. They're warm, and gentle, and familiar, though not in this place. Matt's heart is kicking it into high gear, and he swallows. 

“Matt... You mean the world to me,” Foggy says. “You are, without a doubt, the most important person in my life. And I know we've been a little weird for a while, and I know things have been crazy, but nothing has changed how much I care about you. I was angry with you, for a long time. Sometimes I still am. And I hate that there's been this... weird thing between us. But you know what I hate more? Seeing you get hurt. They can't take care of you, Matty. These people you hand yourself over to? They don't know you, and they definitely don't know you like I do. 

“I wanna take care of you, Matty. I do. I wanna take care of you, and give you everything you need and more, because, fuck... I love you, okay? I have, from probably the moment I first saw you. And I don't want this for you. Let me be there for you, Matty. I want to do that for you. I'm offering this because I want it. Because I want you. I want to take care of you, because you deserve it, and because I love you. It's... pretty simple, I think.”

“You.... you love me?”

Matt's breathless. He feels like someone just landed a solid punch to his gut, and he can't breathe quite right just yet. It's on the edge of both panic and euphoria, and he's not sure how to deal with it.

“Yes,” Foggy says gently. “And this is probably the shittiest way to confess it, but what the hell? We're not getting any younger, and I should, like, seize the day or whatever. Like that Newsies song. Might as well, right? Because if you know... maybe you'll believe me when I say that this is not something you would be forcing me to do.” He pauses for a moment. “I take a lot of care of you anyway, buddy. Might as well do it all, right? Besides, no one does this job better than me. Except Claire, maybe, because she has better medical skills than me, but you get the point, I assume.”

“Foggy...” He shakes his head, and ducks, because here come the tears.

“Matty, don't cry,” Foggy says gently. “Oh come on, buddy. Come here. Bring it in.”

He pulls Matt into his arms, and then into his lap. Matt clings to Foggy's shirt, and cries into the cotton blend material. It smells like him, and it's warm from him, and his body is shaking a little with his cries, but there's no stopping this. Foggy strokes his hair and his back, murmuring softly.

“You're incredible,” Matt says into his neck. “You're the most amazing person I know, Foggy Nelson, and I love you, too.”

Foggy lets out a soft, relieved sounding laugh, and hugs Matt tightly to him.

“I'm glad that confession speech wasn't wasted.”

“It was very good,” Matt assures him. “Very passionate. Sweet.”

“And I meant every word of it. You're not getting rid of me so easy, Murdock. You're stuck with me now. I'm never letting you get away from me for as long as you live.”

“I can live with that.”

+

“I got you something.”

Matt looks up from his papers as Foggy walks into his apartment. He'd heard him long before he was there, but he still beams when he walks in. He's sitting at his little kitchen table, laptop and papers out, reading for their latest case. It's late, on a Friday evening, and Matt hasn't been back from the office for very long. Foggy told him to go without him, that they'd catch up later, so he did just that.

A plastic bag crinkles in Foggy's hands as he makes his way over to where Matt's sitting. He sits in the chair next to him, and gently takes his hand off the paper he was reading.

“Now... I know it's been a while since you've done this. I don't know how long you wanna wait before you do this kind of thing again, but... I picked up some stuff. For... when you do wanna do it again.”

“You want to do a scene with me?” Matt's heart is galloping in his chest at the thought.

“I told you I wanted to take care of you, Matt,” Foggy says. “Obviously, there's stuff like making sure you're eating, and putting ice on your bruises, and reminding you when it's your turn to take out the trash, but I also meant this. I know it's important to you. You said it helps. That it makes you feel better. And I am all about making you feel better, Matt. So, yes, I want to do a scene with you. Lots of them. As many as you need.”

“Foggy...”

“I have rules, though, Matt,” he says. “No more repeats of that bullshit you were doing before. All that is out the window. You want pain? We can do that. But the right way. And we're gonna ease into it, because I'm new to this, and I'm pretty sure you've never done that part the right way, anyway. I want to do this right. For both our sakes.”

“I...” There's a lump in his throat, tears threatening in his eyes. “Of course. Yes. Thank you. I... This means a lot to me, Foggy.”

Foggy gently kisses him, and Matt can feel the way he's smiling. He runs an affectionate hand through Matt's hair, standing.

“I know it does. That's why we're doing it.”

“Can we...” He licks his lips. “Can we start tonight?”

He hasn't said anything, but the itch has started back up. It's been nearly two months since the bad scene. He's been back on Dardevil duty, been back to his normal routine, and the old itch is creeping in again, demanding attention. A fire, waiting to be stoked. He wants it, needs it, badly. It's been too long. 

Foggy makes a startled noise. 

“Well... why not,” he says. “Yeah, we can start tonight.”

Matt beams, and Foggy's heart stutters. He'll never get tired of that.

Matt finishes up with his reading and puts his things away, his body humming with anticipation. It's been too long, and he's craving this. Foggy's sitting on Matt's bed, calm and waiting for him. Matt smiles, and stands in front of Foggy, eager. 

“So how are we doing this?” Matt asks.

“We've got to establish some important stuff,” Foggy says. “First, I need a safeword. And you're getting one- that's not up for debate.”

Matt nods, licks his lips. Thinks on it a little bit. 

“Avocado,” he says. “It's distinct, yes?”

Foggy laughs. “That it is. Alright. So avocado is the safeword. Just to run it by you- use it if you need too, Matt. I'm serious. If anything is too much, if you're ever uncomfortable, if I pinched you or something- let me know. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Second- we're not doing anything crazy tonight. Like I said, we're going to ease our way into this. It's better for both of us that way. So, I thought we'd start small. Simple. I've been doing a lot of research, and I've been looking into a lot of things, so I'm not entirely clueless here, but I still want to take this slow. Third- do you... do you want to call me anything specific? When you're in subspace? I know a lot of people do that. It makes it easier.”

“Usually you're the one who makes that call,” Matt says with a light chuckle. “The whole point is that you're the one calling the shots, you know.”

“Yeah, but... that felt a little weird to me. Making you call me something else, even during a scene. I mean, if it makes you feel better, we can work something out. But you're gonna have to help me out. What do you want to call me?”

“Just Foggy,” Matt says softly. “If that's okay.”

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you want. I'm actually a little relieved. I don't feel like much of a Sir, if ya know what I mean.”

Matt laughs. “I know.”

“So. I call the shots, obviously. But you have to know that if I tell you to do something you don't want to do, you tell me. You use the safeword and you let me knows what's up. You gotta help me help you here, buddy. If something isn't working for you, we talk it out. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Foggy claps, and Matt smiles.

“Let's get started then, shall we?”

“Yes,” Matt says, and he already feels a little breathless.

Foggy leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Matt's forehead. He hums, and Matt smiles. He runs his hands down Matt's arms, giving his wrists a soft, reassuring squeeze.

“Take your clothes off.”

His voice has a different tone- it's soft, but there's authority in it. He's using one of his better courtroom voices- the one he likes to use when he's in the thick of it, driving home his most important point. Matt shivers at the sound- he's always privately loved when Foggy uses that voice. It's not angry, but there's an edge of command in it that forces people to look at him, to listen to him. 

It's perfect.

Matt slips right into subspace and immediately begins to follow the order. He starts with his shirt. He lifts it and throws it away to a corner of the bedroom to be forgotten. His socks come next, the wood floors of his apartment cool beneath his bare feet. Pants and underwear very soon follow, and then he's naked. 

There's a thrill that comes with this- being so exposed to the person who's in control. The thrill of their eyes traveling his body, the way their gaze lands on the planes of his chest, the shape of his hips, the way his cock looks settled between his thighs. There's a soft intake of breath, and he knows Foggy is enjoying what he sees, which makes Matt burn with a rush of pleasure. He's already blushing, but he manages to keep his compusure, otherwise. How many times has he been here before? It only gets better. 

“Very good,” Foggy says softly. “On your knees, now.”

Matt slides into position with ease, head down, hands clasped behind his back. Foggy makes a soft noise. His heart is going a little wild, and he's obviously already enjoying this. 

Foggy stands up, steps in front of Matt. He puts his hand under his chin and lifts his head. He runs his thumb over Matt's lips, and he wants so badly to lick it, to suck it into his mouth and show Foggy what he can do with it. But he hasn't been given permission, so he sits quietly.

“Remember how I said I got you something? I'm pretty excited to show it off, actually.” He reaches for something on the bed, and steps behind Matt. “It's red, by the way. I know you can't see that, but you look really good in red, so I thought it was a nice touch. A personal flair, hm?”

Foggy gently takes Matt's wrists, and his breath catches as he begins to tie them. The rope is soft- made with silk. Matt's chest is aching with how tender that is, how considerate. Foggy ties his hands snugly, though not too tight. He tests the give, asks Matt if it feels okay, before stepping away. 

“Oh, don't you look pretty,” Foggy says softly. 

Matt blushes fiercely, and Foggy gasps a little.

“You like that, huh? Being called pretty?” He runs a hand through Matt's hair. “You are, you know. So pretty, Matty, look at you. And I was right- that red looks so nice on you. Pretty, pretty baby,” he coos.

Matt's face is on fire, and he pushes into Foggy's hand a little.

“I could just sit here and watch you like this for hours,” Foggy says. “You look so pretty like this. I bet I can make you look prettier, though. Lots more ropes, everywhere. Get you all trussed up and wrapped up in red. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Matt breathes.

“I know I would.”

He brings his thumb back to Matt's mouth again, stroking his lips. Matt sighs, and Foggy hums softly. He just strokes his mouth, the other hand still idly running through his hair. He leans down, then, and kisses Matt, very softly, on the mouth. Matt gasps, and he can feel Foggy smiling as he deepens the kiss, tongue swiping over Matt's bottom lip. He pulls away after a moment, and Matt is breathless.

He sits back down on the bed, and pats his thighs.

“Come on over here, Matty,” he says.

Matt scoots forward until he's pressed against the side of the bed. Foggy guides his head until it's resting in his lap, and he begins to run his fingers through his hair again, gentle and soft. Matt finds himself nuzzling Foggy's thigh, the cotton of his pants soft and warm with his body heat. 

“Good boy,” Foggy murmurs. “That's it, Matty. My good, beautiful boy. You look so pretty right now, sweetheart- I wish you could see yourself.”

Matt gasps a little, and now he's blushing again, face and neck hot. He hides his face in Foggy's thigh, and Foggy laughs softly, still carding his fingers through his hair.

“You're shy,” he teases. “Oh, that's precious. I should compliment you more, if it sets you off like that. No need to be shy, honey. Come on, let me see your face.”

Matt turns his head and looks up at Foggy, face still burning.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos. “No need to be embarrassed. It's okay, baby. You look so pretty right now- there's no need to be shy.”

He leans down and kisses Matt's forehead, warm and gentle. He lands a few more kisses on his face, and Matt's brain is short-circuiting a little. This is much, much different from what he's normally used to. Foggy's been nothing but tender and gentle from the start. Though his tone held authority when he gave orders, there wasn't anything harsh in it. This is completely different from the other scenes Matt's experienced. 

“You look like you wanna say something,” Foggy says. “Go on, don't be shy. Tell me.”

“Y-you... you're being so nice to me. All the petting, and the talking... that doesn't usually happen.”

Foggy makes a soft noise. “I don't want to hurt you, Matty. I told you I was gonna take care of you, remember? You may think you need to hurt, but I know that's not true. You already take enough beatings as it is, buddy. I want to help you in a much nicer way. It works out better for both of us like this, trust me.”

Matt nods, biting his lip.

“Just trust me,” Foggy says softly. “I'm going to take such good care of you, Matty. Whatever those guys gave you- whatever you thought you wanted before- I'm gonna show you that you don't need that. I'll take care of you, sweetheart. I'll make you feel amazing.”

He kisses Matt's forehead again, and resumes his heavy petting. His hands are so gentle and warm, roaming all over Matt's body. He's touching just to touch, rubbing Matt's shoulders, his back, pressing soft, warm kisses to his mouth and face as he goes along. 

Matt steadily becomes more relaxed until he's slumped against the bed, his face turned and buried into Foggy's thigh. He breathes in his scent, and nuzzles him, smiling contentedly. It's different- worlds different- from how he usually does this, but never has he felt so relaxed. So comfortable. Maybe Foggy's onto something with this.

“You're such a good boy, Matty,” Foggy says sweetly, petting Matt's head. “My sweet, good boy- how could anyone ever hurt you?” He kisses his head. “You're looking sleepy, now, too- I think it's time for bed for you. Come on and stand up for me, baby.”

Matt slowly works his way to his feet, and Foggy reaches behind him to untie his wrists. He rubs them for Matt, kissing them, and steers him back to the bed, where he finds the covers have been pulled back. Foggy guides him in, and he settles down on the mattress. He holds his arms out, feeling a little vulnerable.

“Please stay,” he says, and his voice is so small. He's not sure he could stand it if Foggy walked away right now.

“Of course,” he says gently. “Of course, Matty, I'm not going anywhere. Come on, I'll come and lie next to you.”

He does just that, climbing into the bed. As soon as he's settled, he scoops Matt into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest. His hands roam across Matt's back as he peppers his face with kisses, and Matt's blushing again.

“You were so good for me,” he says between kisses. “You're such a good, good boy, Matty, I'm so proud of you.”

Matt feels tears gathering in his eyes, and buries his red face in Foggy's neck. Foggy continues a steady stream of softly spoken praise, stroking Matt's back and hair, throwing in gentle kisses.

He falls asleep feeling overwhelmed in a distinctly wonderful way.

+

Foggy continues this trend of compliments and praise and even orders outside of scenes. He's always gentle- never, ever angry or overbearing- and whenever Matt listens to him, he's showered with praise. He's floundering, unsure how to handle so much... kindness.

He makes Matt eat breakfast one morning, but it's so effortless, so nice. When Matt starts eating, Foggy plants kisses on his head and tells him he's a good boy, and Matt is floored in the best way. It's unexpected, and different, but Matt absolutely finds himself not minding it as much as he ought to.

Of course, it's hard, a lot of days, for him to take it with grace. There's always Stick's voice in the back of his head, telling him this is wrong, that he's bad, he didn't earn this. He doesn't need Foggy to tell him when to eat; get off your knees, split the rope, tell him to leave, this was a bad idea, bare your teeth and form a fist and go hit something until this all makes sense.

Foggy is much more perceptive than he gets credit for, because he knows something's wrong. Of course he does. He knows Matt better than anyone else. 

He's on his knees, at Foggy's feet, hands tied behind his back. Foggy slows his petting until it stills, using one hand to lift Matt's chin. 

“Tell me what's wrong,” he says gently.

He turns his head, blushing slightly. 

“Now, now, no hiding,” Foggy says. “Come on, Matty, tell me what's wrong.”

“I...” He licks his lips and pauses, unsure how to say the words out loud. But Foggy told him too, and it's Foggy- so he has to try. “I don't- don't deserve this,” he whispers. “You're so nice to me, so gentle. You never punish me, even though I said you're allowed. I don't get it. I didn't earn it.”

“Matty...” Foggy's voice is soft, concerned. “God, you really believe that, don't you? Sweetheart... listen to me. And no interrupting. Just sit here and listen, alright?”

He nods. Foggy resumes his gentle petting, hands running through Matt's hair. He settles against Foggy's thigh, and sighs softly.

“I know you think you deserve to get hurt. I know you think you need to be punished. But I promise you that you get enough of that on your own. You don't think the way you get your ass kicked as Daredevil counts as enough punishment, for some reason, and I don't think I'll ever really understand that.”

He leans forward, kisses Matt's forehead gently.

“You do so much to hurt yourself, Matty,” he says. “You don't deserve it. Whatever that Stick asshole told you- he was wrong. You deserve this, Matty. You deserve to have someone take care of you, to love you, to be there for you when you feel like shit and like the world's falling on top of you. Matty, Matty- you're so strong, and beautiful, and good, and you deserve this. Do you hear me? I mean that. You don't need to be beat up or punished, Matty. You deserve someone to be good to you, to be nice to you.”

He cups Matt's face in his hands, looking right at him. Matt feels tears gathering in his eyes- if Foggy says anything else, he won't be able to stop it. Foggy is so gentle, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, and presses another kiss to his forehead.

“You're so wonderful, Matty,” he says gently. “You're brave, and kind, and you care so much about other people. You're so beautiful. Do you know that? Everything about you is beautiful, Matty. The way your eyebrows scrunch up when you're thinking hard, and the way your eyes crinkle at the corners whenever you smile. And your smile is so pretty. It's beautiful. One of the best smiles I've ever seen- I love it when you smile, Matty.”

He finds himself feeling very overwhelmed, then, and before he can even try to stop it, he's crying. Foggy makes soft, soothing noises, and continues his petting.

“Such a good boy, Matty, it's okay. You're so special, you know that? You're so good to me, and you listen so well. My good, beautiful boy. Beautiful, beautiful, boy. I can't tell you that enough- you look so lovely like this, when you let me tie you up and take care of you. I love taking care of you. You're such a good boy.”

He kisses Matt's forehead, and wipes some of his tears away.

“I'll take care of you, Matty. Whatever you need, I'll take care of you. You're so important, and so special, Matty. My good, sweet boy- I'm gonna make sure you're always taken care of. Always, okay? I'm not leaving you. I'm not letting anyone else get their hands on you, Matty. I'm gonna take real good care of you, give you everything you need, everything you deserve. You're so good for me, so beautiful, I want to show you that, okay? 

“Whatever Stick told you, whatever those other people told you, you don't need to be punished. You don't need to be hurt anymore, Matty. I'll take care of you, sweetheart, I promise.”

Matt is crying n earnest, now, and Foggy keeps up a stream of soft, gently spoken praise as he hauls him to his feet and onto the bed with him. He unties his wrists, and pulls Matt into his lap before wrapping him in a throw blanket. (It's one he brought from his apartment, and it's soft and warm and smells like Foggy and home.) Foggy is stroking his hair, kissing his cheeks and face, rocking him gently. He's warm and solid and comforting, and Matt has never felt so simultaneously raw and safe.

“I love you, Matty,” he whispers into his hair. “I love you, and I'm going to take care of you.”

And he believes it.

+

It's been a long week for Matt. They've had three cases running, and there's been a lot of issues lately with a prostitution ring in Hell's Kitchen that refuses to go down easy. He's been tracking and fighting for two and a half weeks now- every time he thinks he has the final piece, there's more information, another guy pulling strings, and he has to set out again.

He's exhausted, but that's never exactly stopped him before.

Foggy is trying his best to keep up, trying to make sure he's getting enough sleep and not getting his ass handed to him too badly when he goes out, but he's got just as much work at the office as Matt does, and he's tired, too. But, of course, this doesn't stop him, either. Really, they were made for each other. 

“Matt.”

He looks up from his papers. They're in his apartment, and he's got a stack of paperwork in front of him at his dining table. It's late, and a Saturday, but there's no rest for the wicked, as his grandmother once said, so he's working. It's not like there's interns, and someone has to do the reading, so here he is. 

“When was the last time you ate, buddy?”

He furrows his brow, because he honestly can't remember. “Uh.”

“Yeah, I thought so. I think we're done for the night.”

“But-”

“Put it away.” And there's his hard voice, the one he uses when he gives Matt orders.

Matt's spine goes rigid, and he nods, instantly slipping into his role. Heal coils in his belly at the sound of Foggy's voice. He takes his fingers off the page and starts shuffling them into place, turning towards Foggy, who's standing between Matt and the couch.

“Come here.”

He stands and walks over, steps sure. Foggy gently cups his cheek, running a thumb over his cheekbone.

“You look drained, Matty.” He hears Foggy's hair brush his shoulders as he shakes his head. “It's the weekend. So what we're going to do is we're going to relax. But you're going to eat first. Go strip and then come back and wait for me on your knees.”

“Yes, Foggy.”

Matt goes to the bedroom and does as he's told, removing his clothes. He walks into the living room, naked, and Foggy guides him to a pillow he's put on the floor. His knees hit the pillow, and Foggy makes a satisfied noise.

“Good boy.”

Matt flushes at the praise, and Foggy goes into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and shuffles around, popping something in the microwave. Leftovers from their Chinese the night before- dumplings and egg rolls. When it's finished, he comes back and sits on the couch, right in front of where Matt's kneeling.

“You're not tied, but I expect you to keep your hands to yourself,” Foggy says sternly. “I'd hate to have to punish you.”

Matt's learned, in the last month and a half, that Foggy gives excellent spankings. It's nothing like the punishments Matt used to receive, but they're highly effective. He almost wants to slip up, just to feel Foggy's firm hands on his ass. But he doesn't- he sits, as he's told, and waits for Foggy's next move. 

The spankings are good, but most days, he likes being a good boy, more. 

“Here, Matty, open up,” Foggy says gently.

Matt does as he's told, and Foggy is feeding him half of a dumpling. He's gentle, patient, letting Matt take his time. Matt licks Foggy's fingers a little, and Foggy lets him, humming softly. He pets Matt in between bites, Matt kissing his fingertips, and is obviously satisfied with the results. 

When all of the food is gone, he kisses Matt's forehead, and Matt can feel his smile. 

“That's much better,” he says. “You never eat enough when you work, you know.”

He runs his hands over Matt's shoulders and arms, humming a little. Matt leans into the touch, feeling warm and content. 

“You're tense,” he says softly. “But I know how to fix that. Bedroom- come on.”

Matt stands and walks with Foggy to the bedroom, heart thrumming in his chest. Foggy has him lie down on his back, spread out. He gets the rope, and ties his wrists above his head, securing them to the headboard. He runs a hand down Matt's chest, making him shiver. His cock twitches, already interested, and Foggy laughs softly.

“Someone's a little excited.”

Matt blushes, biting his lip, and Foggy chuckles fondly. He runs a hand over Matt's chest, down his stomach, making him shudder. His touch is gentle, soothing, though it still has intent. He stands, after a moment, and undresses. Matt listens to his clothes sliding off of his body and onto the floor, his hair swishing with his movements. Foggy hums very softly as he does this, content. Matt squirms a little on the bed, body thrumming with impatience and the low sparks of early arousal. 

Foggy grabs the lube from the nightstand, and gets onto the bed. It dips with his weight, familiar, and Matt whines a little in the back of his throat. Whatever Foggy's going to give him, he wants it, now. The sharp bite of Foggy's arousal is in the air, and Matt's cock fills at the smell, at the smell of the lube, of the ropes against the skin of his wrists. 

“God, you look pretty,” Foggy says reverently. 

He strokes his hand down Matt's chest again, making him whine, arching into the touch. Foggy adds his other hand, running them across Matt's chest and sides, his hands warm and gentle. Matt squirms, soft moans escaping him as Foggy's hands roam over his sensitive skin. 

He leans forward and licks one of Matt's nipples, causing him to cry out, arching up into the contact. Foggy sucks it, and Matt's lashes flutter, face red as he moans. Foggy's hands are on his ribs, his body over Matt's, as he sucks his nipple, making him keen. He removes his mouth and blows cool air over it, drawing a cry out of Matt. He repeats the process with his other nipple until they're both tingling and hard, too sensitive. He kisses down Matt's chest, his mouth soft and warm.

“So pretty, Matty,” he whispers. “My beautiful baby.”

“F-Foggy,” he moans.

“I know, sweetheart. God, you're so gorgeous. I wonder how many times I can make you come?”

Matt's breath catches in his throat, and he swallows hard, shuddering a little.

“A-as many times as you want,” he gasps. “I'll come for you so much, Foggy, however much you want.”

Foggy kisses Matt's hip. “I know you will, sweetheart- you're so good to me,” he says. “So eager to please, always willing to give me what I want... such a good boy, Matty. Such a good, good boy. I promise I'll make you feel good. You just relax, baby, and let me take care of you.”

Matt nods and moans softly as Foggy moves his mouth across his hips, kissing him. It's so close to his cock, and he's desperate for him to touch it, but he forces himself to remain patient. He wants to be good right now, wants Foggy to take his time and do whatever he wants. Even if he has to wait- it's coming, and that keeps him much more patient. 

Foggy moves even lower, to Matt's thighs, hands roaming on the soft, sensitive skin there. Matt is gasping and moaning and whimpering with every touch, and he hears the way Foggy's heart jumps with each sound- Foggy has even said, many times, just how much he loves the noises Matt makes, how it drives him wild. Luckily for both of them, Matt isn't very quiet in bed.

He kisses up the inside of Matt's right thigh, and brushes his tongue along a spot, causing Matt to buck his hips and whine. He bites down, and Matt moans, eyes rolling back a little. He sucks a bruise into the spot, right on his inner thigh, on the softer, more sensitive skin there. He repeats the process a few more times, and then moves to the left and does the same, covering Matt's thighs in hickeys. 

Matt loves this part- he loves it when Foggy marks him up. There's something primal in him that loves the way Foggy uses his teeth to claim him, to cover his skin and paint a picture that says “I belong to Foggy”. He loves the way they feel the next day, tender and heated beneath his clothes, and even though they're usually in places no one can see- like his thighs- he likes knowing they're there. Likes the way every brush of his pants against his legs is a constant reminder that Foggy put those bruises there, that he took the time and energy and love to say, “You're mine, and I'm going to prove it.”

Some might think it degrading, but Matt finds his own liberation in the claim. Yes, he's Foggy's. He's always been, really, from the moment they met- but there's something good, practically magical, about having solid, physical proof on his body. 

He's always been more fond of things he can feel, after all.

Matt's lashes flutter as he hears the cap of the lube opened, his nostrils flaring as Foggy pours some onto his hand. He hears the slide of it as Foggy spreads it on his fingers, and he whines a little in anticipation.

“I know, baby,” Foggy says. “Don't worry, I've got you.”

Within moments, Foggy's finger is pressing against his entrance, slick and warm, and Matt gasps. He pushes in, just to the knuckle, and Matt relaxes into it, breathing deeply.

“There you go, baby,” Foggy soothes. “Just like that. You always take me so well, look at you. I've got you.”

Matt shudders a little as Foggy begins to finger him. It's slow and tender, and he's really taking his time in stretching Matt out, making soothing noises and dropping praise as he goes. Matt squirms and moans beneath him, eyes closed and mouth parted, gasping. It's slow and sweet and so, so good, and Matt can't even find it in himself to be impatient with the pace. 

It seems to be moments before Foggy has three fingers in, and Matt is shuddering, breathless and flushed. He's moving his hips minutely, just enough to add to Foggy's thrusts, his mouth parted around steady, breathy moans. Foggy crooks his fingers just right, brushing Matt's prostate, and he keens, hips bucking a little.

“Oh please, Foggy,” he gasps. “Please, please fuck me, I'm ready, please, I want it so bad, please.”

“Of course, baby, of course. Anything you want, okay? But I want you to come first. Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes,” Matt gasps out. “Yes, Foggy, yes, I wanna come, please make me come, please.”

Foggy leans forward and presses a sweet kiss against Matt's red, parted mouth, and he can feel his smile. He goes back to work, and crooks his fingers again, rubbing right against Matt's prostate. He keens, thrashing, moving his hips to get extra friction.

“Foggy, 'mgonna come, I'm gonna come, Foggy, G-god, 'mgonna come-”

His words are running together, slightly higher pitched, his body humming with tension as Foggy increases the pace of his fingering a little, hitting his prostate over and over. 

And then he's coming, a choked off scream leaving him, his body heaving with his orgasm as he paints his own stomach with come. Some of it catches on the bottom of his chin, but he doesn't even care, because he's warm and alive and Foggy's fingers inside him feel like he's stroking a livewire. He slowly takes his fingers out, Matt still gasping, and runs his hands soothingly over his legs.

“There you go, Matty,” he says gently. “There, good boy, baby, you've done such a good job for me. Look at you, honey. That's it.”

He leans forward again and kisses Matt's cheeks, his forehead, his nose. He swipes the little bit of come from his chin and laughs softly. His hands are in his hair, petting him, running down his chest, his stomach. Matt slowly comes down from the high, the trembling subsiding, and blinks lazily. He turns his head hungrily for a kiss, and Foggy obliges him, kissing him hot and deep.

“Are you ready, baby?” Foggy asks.

“Yes,” Matt says. “Yes, I want it.”

Foggy kisses his cheek and goes back between Matt's legs. Matt hears the lube again, smells it, and listens with a watering mouth as Foggy spreads it over his cock. He whines, low in his throat, and Foggy rubs soothing circles on his hip.

He positions himself, and Matt sighs as he pushes in. It's a good, slow burn as Foggy pushes in further, slowly, until he bottoms out. He groans, shuddering a little, and Matt sighs, restless. Foggy finally, finally starts moving, little soft, minute thrusts that are light bursts of pleasure against Matt's senses. He arches up a little and moves his hips, and Foggy hums in satisfaction.

“There we go, Matty,” he says. “That's it.”

He starts moving in earnest, then, and Matt just hangs on for the ride, really, riding the tide of pleasure in a haze, moaning and thrusting his hips a little in time with Foggy. Foggy's moaning, whispering praise in Matt's ear as he thrusts, and Matt feels incredible, his body alive with pleasure.

Foggy keeps the pace steady, but a little on the fast side. His breathing is a little ragged, and Matt's still flushed, panting, his back arching a little every few moments. Foggy's hands are on his hips, holding him steady as he fucks him, and Matt's eyes are closed, mouth parted around the noise he's making.

“Such pretty noises you make for me, baby,” he croons. “I love the way you sound, sweetheart.”

Matt blushes again, and Foggy pats his cheek gently. 

His hands move down, and he's grabbing Matt's thighs, lifting them a little. This changes the angle of his thrusts, and Matt keens as Foggy brushes right against his prostate.

“Oh g-god,” he croaks. “F-foggy, please...”

“You like that?” He asks, voice husky. “Tell me all about it, baby.”

“I love it, Foggy, I love it, God, I love the way you fuck me, Foggy.”

“That's what I like to hear, honey. Think you can come for me again? I'd love to see you come again, Matty, you look so pretty when you do.”

“Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, make me come again, please.”

“Well, since you asked nicely...”

Foggy changes the pace again, speeding up, and Matt strains against his ropes, panting. He works his hips a little, trying to add to Foggy's thrusts, but there's not much he can do from this position. He's whining, high-pitched, in his throat, and Foggy is moaning. 

“God, baby, you feel so good... so hot and tight, just for me. Come on, I wanna see you come all over yourself again. Come for me, Matty, I wanna see it.”

“Harder!” Matt gasps. “I wanna come, Foggy, please, harder.”

Foggy obliges his request, and tears start rolling down Matt's cheeks. He's sobbing, now, large, wet tears soaking into his hair and the pillow beneath him as Foggy fucks him deep and fast, hitting his prostate again. He cries out, his back arching off the bed.

“Talk to me,” Foggy pants. “Come on, Matty, talk to me.”

“It f-feels so- go good, Foggy, fuck, it feels so good, please, Foggy, 'mgonna come soon, please don't stop, I wanna come, please, I wanna come, I'm gonna come, 'mgonnacomegonna- Foggy!”

He lets out a breathy scream, back arching up as he comes again, getting more come on his stomach, cock twitching. He's gasping, breathless, and trembling, and Foggy is still pounding into him, now, grunting low in his throat.

“C-come inside me,” Matt gasps out. “Please, Foggy, I want it.”

“Fuck, Matty, Jesus Christ...”

With a few more thrusts that have Matt crying out, Foggy comes, hot and sudden, inside of Matt. Matt gasps, the breath knocked out of him, as Foggy thrusts through his orgasm. He slows down, and very gingerly pulls out, breathing ragged. His heart is like a jackhammer, and his skin is hot, and Matt is in the same state. The room smells like sweat and tears and come, and his head is spinning, body still humming with the remains of his orgasm.

Foggy reaches up and unties Matt, tossing the rope away and rubbing his wrists, kissing them. He kisses his forehead, still a little breathless.

“I'm gonna get something to clean you up, sweetheart,” he says. 

He gets up and ventures to the bathroom. Matt hears the water running, and Foggy pads back in and begins wiping Matt down with a warm washcloth. He cleans him up slowly and gently, and then himself, before tossing the cloth away onto the floor. They'll worry about it in the morning.

Right now, Matt is coming out of subspace, and everything is warm and soft and pleasant. His body feels like it's liable to melt into the mattress at any second. Foggy gets back into the bed, and tosses the bottle of lube onto the floor. He scoops Matt into his arms, holding him against his chest, and starts kissing his face and hair, hands roaming across his back and ass. 

“You did so well, baby,” he says softly. “You did such a good job for me, Matty, I'm so proud of you.”

He kisses Matt's nose as Matt hums in pleasure, body warm and sated, cheeks gently flushed from the praise.

“How do you feel, honey?”

“Wonderful,” Matt says, though it comes out a little slurred.

Foggy pets his hair, and Matt buries his face in his neck, breathing in his scent. Foggy hold him close, their legs tangled together, and reaches to pull the blankets over them.

“We'll wash the sheets tomorrow,” he says with a yawn. “Just sleep for now, baby.”

Matt nods into his neck, already half-asleep.

“I love you, Matty.”

“Love you too...”

+

For once, things work out nicely.

There are no tricks or gimmicks. Matt doesn't get hurt any more than he already does as Daredevil, and everything is... good. They still do their thing, and they kick ass as lawyers, and Matt kicks ass on the streets, and on the in between, in the quiet moments, Foggy ties Matt up and shows him just how much he loves him. 

It's simple, and fun, and beautiful, in its own way. Matt has never been more grateful than he is now to have Foggy in his life. His best friend, his partner, his lover, his dom... How did one guy get so lucky, he wonders. 

Nothing, of course, is perfect. But they've got a good thing going, and Matt's grateful. 

It's the one thing he really got right, he thinks. He'll take it.


End file.
